Chantaje
by JayDick Hell
Summary: Jason Todd finally branched out from the shadow of the Bat, ready to be his own hero as the Red Hood. Dick Grayson raised himself on the rough streets and stole to survive, becoming the notorious thief Robin. Naturally, Jason had to put a stop to the criminal when he appeared in Blüdhaven. He never expected to get addicted to the wily thief. JayDick [Jason Todd x Dick Grayson]


**Authors Note:** First story for these two! It's a bit rushed but I intend to do better next chapter.

Quick rundown: Dick was never adopted by Bruce but ran from the juvie center they tried to force him into after his parents death. From there, he raised himself and learned to steal to stay alive. As he got older, he started to realize he could use his wiles to get his way as people often sexualized him, and being the performer he is, he took to the con act like a bird to air.

Jason is the oldest of the Batkids and went by Batboy before graduating to Red Hood. He left Gotham after fighting with Bruce and picked 'Haven as his city. (Basically what happened with Nightwing, but replaced with Jay). He's still young, about 19 or so. Dick's around 23.

it's safe to assume the men in the Batfam have a 'thing' for thieves in tight black suits lmao

* * *

It was a surprisingly mild morning in the rundown city of Blüdhaven. Perched on a roof overlooking the blighted streets was a lithe figure, clad head to toe in form-fitting black armor. One would easily be mistaken into thinking it was made of a sort of matte latex from the way it stretched taut over every line and curve. It was, in all actuality, made of a Nomex triple-weave Kevlar-lined material, making it deceptively resilient in many situations. The wearer liked to use the underestimation to his advantage when performing heists and facing down enemies. They assumed he could be defeated easily with knives and small arms. Boy, were they in for a painful surprise.

Now, he wasn't one to resort to killing in every situation, but that didn't mean he shied away from such acts entirely. In the end, it was them or him. Quite frankly, he valued his own life, thank you very much. Besides, the ones against him were usually worse in nature and wouldn't be much missed. Granted, there were the unfortunate occasions when some do-gooder or self-proclaimed 'superhero' intervened in his missions, making things more complicated. Facing down heroes was, in his opinion, the worst.

If he had to choose, he'd surprisingly pick facing down metahuman heroes to the run-of-the-mill human ones. Metahumans tended to get cocky and rely far too much on their abilities. Those were points he could exploit. The non-powered vigilantes? They had to keep pace with aliens, superhumans, and demigods. They were nothing if not persistent in every way. It made going up against them particularly frustrating. They knew what it was like to be underestimated in a world advancing by large strides. Tricking them was no small feat. Good thing it was one of the world-class criminal's specialties. Still, one could on fool someone so many times before they were outed.

That's why Dick, or Robin as he liked to be called when 'on a job', chose not to settle in one place for long and avoid hero-populated cities in general. He was tougher to track given his nomadic nature. Being so close to Gotham, home of the 'Bat Clan', was nerve-racking, he'd admit that. The thief had absolutely no intention of stepping even a single pinky toe into that god forsaken city. If non-powered heroes were tough to fight, then challenging any Bat was absolute Hell.

However, the chance to make a nice profit in this shithole was far too tempting to pass up. Crime was rampant in the city and not a single person in power was straight-laced. It was a veritable smorgasbord of misconduct and illegal opportunities. The Bats were too busy cleaning up the bigger sister city to focus on this ugly area. So, Dick decided to make a stop in 'Haven for a bit, line his pockets with some goodies, then hightail it the hell out of Jersey. He had a pretty decent offer waiting for him from some bald asshole out in the midwest to go to after all this.

The high-tech lenses of his domino allowed him to zoom a good distance and case the auto shop just across the street. While such a place might not be most thieves first pick to hit, Dick knew better. One new diesel particulate filter alone can easily fetch over two grand, and that was just for starters. It also helped that this place was, unsurprisingly, a chop shop as well as a front for a local gang's bookkeeping. He figured he could turn the place over and abscond with what ill-gotten gains they had stashed in the place. If anything he was doing a civic duty by relieving them of their money, really.

His mapping of the facility was cut short when a voice spoke up behind him. It took some great willpower not to alert the other that he was startled by their appearance. Instead, he stood up slowly and turned to face them, all languid moves and impish grins. Dick always was a performer at heart and playing the coy role was what he did best. Well, that and contorting himself in the most improbable of ways, but that skill set wasn't necessary. Not yet, anyway.

"Well now, what do we have here? Most crooks aren't stupid enough to be casing a place in broad daylight."

The man's voice was distorted by the odd crimson helmet he was wearing, but Dick had a feeling he had one of those deep, rumbling voices. The bright red bat emblazoned on his chest piece was basically a giant neon sign that screamed 'hero'. Dick's gut twisted at a Bat being here of all places. That would be his luck, wouldn't it? Last he checked they didn't cover Blüdhaven, nor did they patrol in the day. It's exactly why he chose to do this in the morning. Well, so much for that tactic, it seemed.

Rather than letting his discomfort show, Dick just let that sly little smile grow just a bit more. He tilted his head ever so slightly in just the right mix of cocky and playful. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and demure.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this your place? I must have gotten turned around. You know how us tourists get. I'll just be on my way now."

Dick knew the man wouldn't just let him leave like that, but he had a game to play. This guy, the Red Hood, if Dick knew correctly, was going to play it whether he liked it or not. The sleek thief shifted, as if preparing to jump from the building, when the tell-tale click of a gun had him halting. 'Oh, so THAT'S how he's gonna play it?'

"Sorry sweetcheeks, as much fun as watching you leave would be, it'd look bad on my 'hero' record."

That had his lip twitching in a small grin. Flirting? Dick could deal with this. The art of seduction was something he excelled at. He turned and made the very obvious motion of checking the hero out. Sure, he couldn't get a good read on what he looked like, what with the helmet and various armored bits, but it was the act of interest he needed to display. Then, he let his posture shift to something looser; more open and inviting. That grin slipped up higher and took a provocative edge.

"You gonna handcuff me now, big guy?"

Naturally, Dick would end up with the one Bat who was pretty okay with killing. He had to choose his actions and words carefully. From the way the masked man laughed a little, he'd say he was navigating these waters rather well at the moment. The thief had done his research on the various members of the capes and tights community for situations such as this. Knowing the crowd makes it all the easy to perform to their interests. Hood, as he learned, was relatively short-tempered and very strict on not hurting or dealing to kids. He was known to put bullets in criminals, unlike the others of his 'family', though they've grown less lethal in area as of late. He also hated being called a clown or joker. Word is it's because of a nasty run in with the infamous criminal of Gotham. So, no circus references for him.

"That's the plan, pretty boy."

Despite the flirtatious remarks and cheeky tone, the gun never so much as wavered from his direction. The guy is good, Dick would give him that. But Robin is better. He slowly put a hand to his chest in faux-flattery.

"Pretty Boy? My, aren't you a charmer. Tell you what, Red, I'll surrender peacefully for a kiss."

That attractive grin was sent his way and if his eyes weren't covered by his mask, he'd most certainly wink. The hero's shoulders shook ever so slightly with low laughter. Dick bet he had a nice sounding laugh without that stupid modifier. Even still, he made no motion to lower his firearm.

"Not gonna happen, Blue. Us Gothamites got a thing about kissing criminals. It usually ends badly."

A little pout was given at his words. Dick had known it wouldn't work, but that didn't mean that the words wouldn't put the image in Red Hood's head. That's all he needed, really. Little ideas and thoughts here and there would make twisting everything so much easier. If he played his cards right, he could get out of here without an issue and maybe even get some fun out of it. What was better than putting on a grand-stand worthy show? Well, besides the rush of the air as he practically flew and the feel of fine, luxorious silks on bare skin, of course. What can he say? He was a man of refined taste and grandeur. It was acquired after growing up on the hard streets and having nothing to his name.

"Aww, but my lips aren't poisonous. I won't even bite unless you ask."

That pout coiled back up into his usual beguiling grin. His words positively dripped with coquetry. The way he shifted to draw just a bit closer, body rolling in a risqué manner, was nearly indecent in its suggestion. Whatever response Hood had drawn up seemed to die out as he stood silent for a moment. Dick just cocked his head and smiled invitingly. Sometimes, it was just too easy. Perhaps he'd been a siren in a past life.

"Well? You gonna come get me, big guy?"

That seemed to snap the man out of whatever he'd been thinking and he stepped closer. The gun was still aimed at Dick, but not as high as before. It seemed like Hood was forgetting he was pointing the weapon at him at this point. His free hand was reaching into one of the inner pockets of his leather jacket, probably to retrieve zipties. Heroes sure liked to use those over cuffs, not that Dick blamed them. Getting out of handcuffs was much easier. Escaping from the ties was just a little more challenging, though not by much in Dick's case. He was a bit of an escape artist. much to the authorities' frustration.

Once given the motion to turn so he could be properly restrained, Dick gave a low, suggestive hum. Idly, he wondered if the man was blushing under his helmet. Obediently, he crossed his hands at the wrist behind his back. The thief was posturing a bit more than necessary, but only by an increment. Enough that the sinuous curves would catch the eye just a bit more, but not enough to make his efforts noticeable. It was all about making the other think he was the one doing it, not Dick.

He patiently waited for the right moment to act. Once he felt both hands on his arms, he moved. The man was no longer readily armed, which meant it was much safer to attack. In a flash, he twisted in Red Hood's grip and finally used his insane flexibility to his advantage. One leg kicked up high to catch the hero's neck in a hold between his calf and thigh. Then, he dropped low and used the downward momentum to fling the surprised man head over heels. Dick wasted no time in sprinting toward the edge of the building while the other scrambled to his feet.

"Sorry to flirt and run, but I just remembered I left the stove on!"

Naturally, Dick couldn't leave without tossing a quip over his shoulder. By the time the hero had his gun ready to shoot, Dick had already flung himself over the edge. The rush of falling was something he'd never grow tired of. Then, he grappled over to a building diagonal from the one he left. He usually shot out his grapnel later than most would be comfortable with, but he liked the sensation of falling without safety. It reminded him of Haly's.

The criminal swung and ran from building to building for some time before he slowed his pace to catch his breath, satisfied he lost his tail. Of course, that's when Red Hood crashed into him. Dick let out a loud 'umph' at the impact and skidded across the ground. He attempted to right himself, but was prevented from doing so by the heavy weight on his waist. The irritated hero straddled him and didn't hesitate to shove the sleek pistol back into his face. 'That didn't go as planned.'

Ever the master of improv, Dick just flashed him a look of confusion that hedged on the obviously theatrical side.

"Well, this isn't where I parked my car!"

Rather than openly react, the vigilante just cocked the gun in a very clear threat. 'Humor's a no go, then.' It looked as if Dick pissed him off more than he thought he would. The notes did say the man had an explosive temper, but he didn't think some silly flirting and then escape would get to him so much. Then again, he probably didn't like getting bested as he did. Thinking on the fly and keeping up his game, Dick let the look morph into a provocative expression.

"Hardcocked and panting just for me? You shouldn't have."

The hand around his throat tightened just a little bit more in warning.

"Ooh, kinky. How'd you know I like it rough?"

Dick had to choke the words out. It was getting a little harder to talk, given the borderline stranglehold Hood had him in. 'Alright, gonna have to get physical.' The best actors and actresses knew that the performance really lay in their ability to convey everything through motion alone. 'Time to make Conrad Veidt proud.'

Moving his head forward was all but impossible at this point, but the gun was basically pushed in his face, making things a bit easier on him. Slowly, oh so slowly, he opened his mouth and ran his tongue suggestively over the muzzle of the gun. The way the man's body stiffened in surprise was enough to let Dick know he was doing things right. Tilting his head as best he could, he let his tongue roam over the cold metal of the frame rail. The grip on his neck loosened just a tiny bit. At that, he gave a low, encouraging groan while still administering his attentive licks to the weapon. Once he slipped the barrel into his mouth, he's pretty certain he heard the vigilante take a shaky breath.

This little act was highly dangerous and Dick was playing with worse than fire. He was placing his bet on the hopes that Hood wouldn't pull the trigger, intentionally or accidentally. But, the danger was just part of the fun. What else could one expect from a man raised around lions and who jumped from high places without a net for fun?

To ramp things up, Dick let his hands wander slowly up the thighs of the larger man. He made certain to avoid making it seem like he was going after any weapons. Rather, the crook pressed and massaged Hood's inner thighs. Dick would be a liar if he said he didn't like the way the hard muscles felt under his hands or the way the man responded to the touch. The way the hero's grip shifted from pinning his head down to almost guiding him up was all Dick needed to know the Red Hood was definitely into this. He couldn't judge well from the hardness in his pants, because he was pretty certain all heroes who needed them wore protective cups. The masked vigilante subconsciously leaned a little closer as Dick made a sweet, arousing noise around his gun. So, the Red Hood was kinkier than Dick anticipated. He could definitely work with this. And he definitely didn't have room to judge.

Dick rolled his hips just a little and was met with a low groan and similar downward action. He repressed the urge to grin around the gun. Then, he slipped the piece from his mouth and ran his cheek over the spit-slick side. Once close enough, he flicked his tongue out to lick over the man's trigger finger, which had since moved to a less lethal area.

Since the gun was no longer pointed dead center on his head, and instead at the ground, Dick could safely make his escape. He gave another roll of his hips now that the hero wouldn't be taken off-guard by the action. Once his hips angled right, he lifted his legs and locked them around the man's throat. Hood gave out a startled sound at the surprise attack. Using all the force he could manage behind his powerful legs, he slammed the man backwards into the concrete roof. The resounding 'crack' as his helmet met the hard surface echoed across the open air.

The thief moved quickly as the hero struggled to reorient himself from the stunning maneuver. Dick needed to make sure he took the vigilante out before he could fully bring himself out of the haze of being slammed so hard into the ground. He pivoted on his feet then snapped a ferocious kick aimed at the helmet. He had to give it to Hood, the man was fast. The hero threw up a hasty arm to block the attack. However, Hood wasn't fast enough to stop the follow up kick from connecting with his head. The armored boot hit its mark with intense force. Dick's strength was greater in his legs, and he played on that strength when he fought.

Already dazed from the previous impact, Hood hit the ground and didn't move to get back up. The rise and fall of his chest let Dick know he was fine, just unconscious. He looked the man over with a small frown.

"Boy, you are gonna be pissed when you get up."

He didn't waste any more time and went to finally escape. But first, he tugged the dagger from the holster on the man's belt and twirled it with obvious expertise.

"Thanks for the gift, Red. I had a great time. You're such a gentleman."

Dick placed a cheeky kiss on the helmet before he darted away. Ordinarily he'd feel bad leaving the hero out in the open like that, but it was day time. He should be fine. Now, he'd have to find a new place to hit and do his best to avoid pissed off flying rodents. Piece of cake.

* * *

 **Notes:** Not sure how I feel about it thus far, but I'll work on that. Poor Jason has such pent up hormones and feelings from being raised by and Dick is taking full advantage of it. Cross-posted to Ao3 and Tumblr as well.


End file.
